Title: Feet of Clay (8)

Rating: T

Pairing: Gabby, Tiva

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with NCIS.

At 3 a.m. the next morning, Gibbs sat in a chair by the pool, drinking coffee and gazing at nothing. It was the fourth time uneasiness had awakened him; this time he gave up on even trying to sleep.

Abby had been restless in bed – usually he could calm her by pulling her close and speaking soothing words in her ear, but this time she didn't seem to want his touch. He could still hear her mumbling in her sleep, words he couldn't decipher but by the tone of her voice they were not good.

What did it mean? Obviously something was bothering her, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe during the weekend he would finally find out.

Hours later, the sun rose to find Gibbs still sprawled on the chair, asleep.

*****

Abby was awake when he returned to their room, but she didn't ask where he had been. Instead, she said, "I wonder what's on the agenda today. It's too bad we didn't get a program."

"I think they were afraid people would sneak out if they knew what they were in for," Gibbs grumbled.

"Only you and Ziva," Abby smiled.

They were impressed at the breakfast buffet downstairs, which included foods from other cultures as well as American foods. Ziva was pleased to see a number of Middle Eastern dishes. She even convinced Tony to try some, and he actually liked them.

When they were almost finished with their plates, Neil, one of the conference leaders, spoke up to announce the next activity. "I hope you all had a good night's rest, and that you're enjoying our breakfast buffet." A chorus of "yes" and "great food" followed, from the polite people who felt it was their duty to respond. "For our next activity, we will divide you into small groups based on gender. You will have a chance to share why you are here without your significant other present. Then your peers may give feedback to your share. If you are ready, then I'd like the men to follow Joe," he pointed to the right side of the room, "and the women to follow Pam, on this side. If you're not finished, take your time. We don't want to rush you."

Abby and Gibbs stood and went their separate ways, while Ziva had to force Tony to get up. It was well known that Tony would not leave a buffet unless coerced.

'I'm glad it will just be women,' thought Abby. 'Now maybe I can tell the truth.'

*****

Ziva was standing outside the small conference room trying to get herself into the right frame of mind for spending the morning with a bunch of whiny, overdramatic women without wanting to reach for her knife when she was approached by a man about her age. He looked somewhat normal; he didn't remind her so much of Mr. Rogers. (How Ziva knew who Mr. Rogers was is a fascinating story that is unfortunately too much of a digression for this fanfic)

"Hi," he said. "Ziva David? I'm Sam, one of the leaders. Owen told me what happened in group yesterday. I wondered if we could discuss that. It would be just the two of us, since you might prefer that to a group setting. That is, unless you would rather be in the women's conference." Ziva agreed to go with him and they went outside to a table under a tree in the courtyard. Sam got right to the point.

"So I was wondering what it was that you were feeling yesterday when you left the group and if you could tell me what it was that bothered you."

"I'm just not used to this sort of thing at all," Ziva said. "Quite honestly, I don't see any reason for all this."

"Then why did you come?" Sam asked.

"It was Tony's idea," Ziva said.

"Your significant other?"

"Yes. We've been fighting a lot and Tony asked a friend of ours what to do. He recommended this weekend."

"What kinds of things do you fight about?"

"The usual things, really. I'm from Israel, so I get cold easily and he's from Michigan so he gets warm easily and we fight for control of the air conditioner. A man at my apartment complex keeps hitting on me and asking me out and it bothers Tony. And it bothers me that he never throws anything away. His kitchen is covered with pizza boxes and empty Dorito bags. And his car. He's obsessed with it. He won't let me come near it. If it starts to rain he has to make sure that 'Meredith' is protected."

Sam smiled. Ziva realized that she had been speaking with more emotion than she had intended. "That's quite a list," Sam said. "Maybe it would help to talk about something else for a minute. Tell me what you do like about Tony."

"Well," Ziva said, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. It was kind of embarrassing that it took her this long to think of things. But so many of the things were hard to put into words. "When we first met, he was…fun," Ziva said. "We teased each other a lot. It was nice after being so long in situations where everyone was so serious all the time. And there was once…I was upset about a case that we had worked and he came over and made me feel better. It was really sweet of him; he was so determined to have a relationship with me. I just…wish I didn't think he was having second thoughts." Sam nodded.

"When you were talking about Tony's car, you sounded very upset. Would you say you are jealous of the attention he pays to it?"

"Of course not," Ziva said. "I'm not one of these pathetic, possessive women who demand that men spend every minute attending to them. I can take care of myself. It's just that—it's ridiculous to be that way with an inanimate object."

"When he has a real woman who loves him at home?" This caught Ziva off guard.

"I—well—I—what?"

"Let's switch gears again. I want you to think back to the last time you spent time together before this weekend. Tell me what you said to him."

Ziva had to admit that their conversation had been mostly complaints; about work, about each other, about what the plans for the evening were.

"Now, Ziva, I want you to understand that I am not assigning blame anywhere. That's not my job. What my job is, however, is to give you the tools you need to be able to keep your relationship going. So we're only going to discuss what you can do at this point. As you know, there is no way for you to change anything about Tony, so we're going to focus on what you can do. Ok?"

*****

Abby sat in a circle of chairs along with the other 3 group members and the facilitator, Felicity. Her boots beat a slow tap dance on the floor, and her hands opened and closed reflexively. She looked around at the other participants, none of whom she recognized.

"Okay, introductions first," Felicity said, with a warm but not overdone smile. "Let's start on this side. First name only."

"Wendy."

"Abby."

"Cinda."

"Rayshann."

"And I'm Felicity, in case you don't know who I am. We're going to talk about why we're here this weekend. Who would like to go first?"

To Abby's great relief, Cinda raised her hand. "I'd like to go first." Felicity nodded. "It's like this, my husband and I got married about a year ago and I soon found out that he was violent when he was drunk. He denied it. I'd show him my bruises but he didn't believe that he caused them himself. I had to do something drastic – I set up a video camera in the living room. When I showed him the tape, he finally admitted he had a problem. He went to rehab and stopped drinking. He hasn't relapsed and he isn't violent when he is not drunk, so our life is much better now." Cinda paused and said, "That doesn't sound like a good reason, does it?"

"Is there more?" Felicity asked softly.

Cinda nodded. "I'm still furious at him for what he did! Even if he's changed, that doesn't make up for all the times he hurt me before." The other women nodded. "I feel so resentful it drives me crazy. I don't want to make love to him anymore. I don't want to do things with him. I get angry at other people!" She paused, trying to calm her breathing. "I have to talk to him about how I feel but I don't know how and I'm afraid I'll lose him."

Abby sat in disbelief. How could Cinda's story be so close to her own? "Can I say something?" she blurted, without thinking.

"Cinda, are you okay with feedback?" asked Felicity. Cinda had hidden her face, red and moist with tears, but she nodded a 'yes.'

Abby could feel the energy of the words ready to pop out of her mouth as soon as she opened it. "My partner raped me when he was drunk and I got pregnant. He felt really bad about it and I love him so we decided to stay together and I had the baby, a boy. I knew he would never do it again; in fact he hardly ever drinks anymore. But the other day I was taking care of Jackie – my baby – and he was crying so long I shook him, hard. I couldn't bear it. That scared me and I tried to figure out why I did it. Now I know it's because I'm still angry! I love Jackie, but he drives me crazy crying sometimes. If it weren't for what my partner did to me, I would still be – carefree, I guess, not tied down with a child." She looked up at them through her lashes, her head downcast. "Am I horribly selfish?"

The women around her shook their heads, as did Felicity. "You need to tell him how you feel, Abby," the leader said. "And you need to tell your husband, Cinda. It's hard to know how to communicate feelings like this. In fact, our afternoon session is all about communication strategies. You will learn specific ways to express what you feel without blaming." Abby and Cinda nodded and relaxed somewhat. "Now let's move on to Wendy…"

*****

Unfortunately for Gibbs, he was picked to share first in Men's group #2. Fortunately, the facilitator had also served in the Marines during Desert Storm, so he quickly connected with Gibbs and gained his trust.

As a result, when Walker asked what had brought him to the conference, Gibbs answered truthfully. "My girlfriend and I had a baby about 3 months ago," he began, "and about 2 weeks back I found out that she lost control and shook him. She left bruises. I would never have expected her to do that! She wouldn't, or couldn't, explain."

To his surprise, 2 of the other men were nodding. "Yeah, my wife did that too," one said.

"What happened?" asked Gibbs.

"It turned out she was upset with me because I was always at work. She couldn't deal with it all on her own."

"It might be postpartum depression, too," added a young man with bright orange hair.

Gibbs glanced at Walker, who nodded and commented, "She should be checked for depression. What do you think about Charlie's idea of her being alone and frustrated?"

He tried to look as though he didn't feel uncomfortable, although he really did. "It could be. After it happened she came back to work and the baby started going to our company daycare. That did seem to help. But –" he shrugged helplessly, frustrated, "—I still think there's something else wrong. She's more distant than she was before, and I don't know why."

A quiet voice spoke up. "Have you asked her?"

For a moment Gibbs' face flashed with fury, but he caught Walker's eye just in time to avoid making a sarcastic comment. "Yes," he said simply, "but she wouldn't tell me."

"Maybe she's afraid of your response," someone suggested.

Gibbs sighed, because that was his theory also. "Probably so."

*****

Ziva and Sam talked until lunchtime and then Ziva went to meet Tony in the same room that breakfast had been in.

While they were getting their meal, she said, "You know, while I was running this morning, I saw a very pretty little clearing about fifteen minutes walk away with a great view of the mountains. Would you like to have a knickknack there?" Tony stared for a minute, trying to figure out what she was talking about, then smiled.

"I would love a picnic," he said. "Let's go."

They borrowed lunchboxes from the kitchen and walked to the spot. There were rocks of varying sizes that seemed arranged for picnickers and they soon set it up and were eating.

"How was your morning?" Ziva asked. They hadn't talked much on the way up and had eaten in mostly silence.

"Not bad," Tony said with a grin. "One of the guys' dad has a '95 Camaro. He never admitted it, but Meredith beat that car's ass." Ziva bit back the angry words that rose in her throat. She paused a minute and, like she had been told, tried to talk about it like she would to a child. (Though obviously not ideal, it helped Ziva to put things into words that were simpler and, more importantly, not chosen with the intent of hurting the other person)

"Tony," she said calmly. "I'm glad you made a new friend and had a nice discussion. But can we not talk about the car right now?"

"Hey, you were the one who brought up our mornings. What were you doing? Holding hands and singing kumbaya?"

"I was talking to one of the leaders; we talked about communication." She looked at him. He alternately eating sausage balls and throwing acorn shells at a nearby squirrel. She sighed. "Tony, I need to say something." He glanced at her, then continued eating and throwing.

"Go ahead."

"Tony, could you please put the food down and look at me?" Looking confused, Tony did as requested. They looked each other and he managed a serious expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Can you listen to what I have to say without making comments?"

"Sure."

"Or laughing, or anything else? Just listen?"

"Ok, ok, fine. Just say it if you're going to."

"It seems like you've changed. I know I've been making a big deal about your car, but it's just strange to me that suddenly you're devoting all this attention to it and I wonder -" This was a lot harder than she had expected, especially considering how ridiculous it sounded in her head. "I wonder if you've changed your mind. About us, or even having a regular girlfriend. I mean, you can easily get all your physical needs met and as for anything else…well, to hear you tell it, your car can be everything I can and even more—or less, rather, because Meredith doesn't complain about you leaving your underwear on her floor. I guess right now I want to know if you really want to be with me anymore or if you are just staying because you feel like you have to. Because if you are, we can leave right now and just go our separate ways." The thought caused an unexpected surge of emotion and she stared at a pine cone near her feet for a moment to regain control.

There was a prolonged pause and she looked up at Tony. He had an impatient but scared look on his face; he stared at her expectantly for a few more seconds then said so quietly that she could barely hear.

"Am I going to be in trouble if I say something now? Am I done listening?"

"No. And yes." Ziva couldn't help but smile. "Yes. I'm finished. Go ahead."

"Well, in my defense I have to say that I haven't really changed. Honest, I haven't. I've always done all that with my car. Maybe you didn't notice just because, you know, before we got together, we weren't that close." He looked her in the eyes again. "I know we had a good relationship as partners but obviously that doesn't necessarily carry over into this kind of relationship. Do you think we should end?"

"I don't want it to, Tony. I like being with you. But I don't know what to do about this; I want to be with you and be close to you and the next second we're yelling at each other about nothing and I'm so angry I just want you to leave. And things don't always work just because we wish they would." Both stared at the ground and were silent for several minutes.

"It's so easy to misjudge someone," Ziva said, a few minutes later for no particular reason. "You meet someone, think you might have potential, then you get to know them—people make mistakes. It happens— most of the time, really."

"Yeah," Tony said dejectedly. There was another pause. "So what do we do now?"

Ziva thought for a minute. "I guess we should finish out the weekend, since we did pay for it and it's not bad here, even though the activities are ridiculous," Ziva said.

"Yeah," Tony said again. Almost sadistically, he thought, he was glad that she seemed at least a little sad about it. He moved closer and put an arm around her; she leaned against him.

"I'm really sorry," she whispered.

"I am, too," Tony said. I thought I really loved her.

I thought we would be together forever. Ziva tried to stop thinking about where it had gone wrong. It just had. It wasn't even really anyone's fault. These things happened. After a minute, she left his side and started getting their things together. "I guess we should head back; there's something at one." Tony didn't reply; just got to his feet and helped her pack up.

When they were ready to leave, Ziva said, "I want you to know, Tony, that even though this didn't work, you'll always be very special to me. You've always been a good friend and I hope you always will be." But Tony just smiled sadly and shook his head.

"As close as we were, Ziva," he said. "We'll never be able to go back to what we were. Maybe we'll be something just as good; I don't know. But…this has changed everything. I guess really it's a good thing; means this wasn't completely worthless."

"It wasn't," Ziva said. Hearts heavy with resignation, they walked back to the conference for the afternoon conference.